


Give Me A Reason To Feel

by Laurasauras



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Band Fic, Body Swap, Depression, M/M, Punk Rock, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: Abandoned for now. Fallen out of love with Harry Potter. :(Draco Malfoy starts a punk-rock band to express his anger with the war.Harry Potter hasn't felt anger or anything else since he died.When an attempt is made on Draco's life, he goes to Harry, hoping he'll use his Auror powers and Chosen One influence to get to the bottom of it. Harry can only feel things when he's in someone else's body, so he tells Draco he can swap with him and do it himself.Body-Swap fic, I'm writing as I go so will update tags as I go, too.





	1. Chapter 1

If there was anything that a Malfoy could be trusted to do, it was to put a spin on a negative situation. After the war, he and his family were granted six months parole, along with many other people who had behaved in a less than heroic way. They had their wands confiscated ( _ right _ after Potter gave his back, which was bloody typical) and they had to check in with a designated Auror once a week. 

But Draco didn’t need his wand, he wasn’t doing anything the Auror could disapprove of and he was actually very much enjoying having his house back. They couldn’t even hire magical cleaners, seeing as no magic was permitted on their estate, but after spending three full days hiding or selling their magical items, they hired some Muggle cleaners. Contrary to popular belief, Malfoys were not obligated to kill or torture every Muggle they ran across. And really, they needed the help. Even after they cleaned all the detritus that had been left behind, none of them knew how to cook or clean without magic. Not that they were hot shots at housework  _ with  _ magic either. 

So, overnight, they had Muggle staff living at the manor permanently. They couldn’t even talk about magic much. They were the best parolees the Ministry had ever seen.

But six months was an insanely long time without magic. His mother spent it by throwing charity balls for Muggles with depression, something that occurred naturally, of course, but had been made so much worse by the Dementors. His father spent it making nice with as many people as he could. Which was difficult, seeing as Shacklebolt was auditing the entire Ministry, so all his best contacts were out of work. Draco spent it … well, he spent it doing a lot of nothing, really. 

He slouched around Diagon Alley in the tightest leather pants he could find from Muggle London, enjoying the looks he got. There was a lot of shock and a lot of arousal followed very quickly by a lot of embarrassment. No one wanted to find him attractive. And yet, no one refused to go to bed with him.

He found the old music room where he had learned piano and voice as a child. He filled it with Muggle instruments half-defiantly, wondering when his parents’ tolerance would stop. They were in the strangest limbo. Even his parents wore Muggle clothing, not wanting to make their new staff gossip about their strange clients. Draco spent a month learning how to play the drums, relishing in the way that no one could use a silencing spell on him. Relishing in the ability to hit the skin of the drums and have the only consequence be noise. And eventually, there came the satisfaction of noise done well.

The only comment his father made was to offer to get him an instructor. And he didn’t even say it in a way that was insulting Draco’s current level of skill.

A month into their parole, Narcissa suggested that Draco throw a party for his birthday, maybe invite some of those ‘new friends’ Draco had been making. The way she said that was a little judgemental, she understood better than most that Draco was just enjoying having complete ownership over his body and actions again.

So Draco threw a Muggle rave one Saturday that took five whole days for their housekeepers to clean up after, and then threw another one the following Saturday for good measure. He discovered a joy for things that glowed in the dark and very loud music. He didn’t even mind that most of the guests came to see what Malfoy Manor looked like without all the magic. That might get them in the doors, but there was still an abundance of people waking up the next day with brutal hangovers, many of them still at the manor because they hadn’t made non-magical arrangements to get home and had forgotten. The Knight Bus had to do several trips, taking the guests out of the range where they could do magic freely again. Draco found himself impressed that none of the guests thought to defy the magic embargo to get his family in trouble, or to give any of his Muggle guests trouble. 

 

His parents gave him tickets to concerts the next weekend, and Draco laughed at their obvious ploy to stop him from trashing the house again, but went along with it, because his parents hadn’t made him laugh in years and because they had given him  _ Muggle _ concert tickets, which intrigued him. He hadn’t been to any concert since he was fifteen and had never been to one that didn’t rely heavily on magic for the performance.

He loved it. He took four friends with him, three from school and one Muggle boy who was in love with him (which he found hilarious), and had intended to spend the night testing his tolerance on Muggle alcohol. But then the band started and he was unable to move.

The thing with Draco’s parents was that they observed everyone constantly. And, seeing as they always knew the exact flavour of chocolate to give which politician’s wife on her birthday, it shouldn’t have surprised Draco that they had known that this music sounded like it was made for him.

It was  _ loud _ , that was his first impression. But there was complicated electric guitar, which Draco had fiddled with and decided wasn’t for him before he moved onto the drums. He knew he would be reconsidering that the second he got home. And the  _ drums _ . Draco was a fast learner, and he had been learning music from a very young age, so he had a sense of rhythm that was invaluable to learning to play the drums. But while the music he had listened to so far had made the drums seem like an essential background element, keeping everyone in time in an elegant and subtle way, this drummer seemed determined to steal the show. Which was saying something, considering his competition. 

The man was only wearing a pair of shorts, having discarded his t-shirt after the first song, and every so often he poured a bottle of water on his head. He obviously needed to. Draco had thought that he sometimes took his frustrations out on his drums, but compared to this guy, he looked positively well adjusted. He threw his arms in the air before coming down on, hard, and weaved complicated bass lines for the band to follow. There was a consistent pattern, of course, despite the many embellishments. 

Draco wanted to see how this guy fucked.

When the guitarist moved onto a solo, the drummer complemented without stealing the show for all of ten seconds before turning it into a competition again. 

It took three songs before Draco was able to tear his focus from the drummer. Pansy, Blaise and Justin were on the dancefloor, leaving just Draco and Mug at the table. Mug thought Draco liked him because of the cute nickname he’d been given, but really, Draco had struggled not to introduce him as ‘Muggle Tom’ a couple of times, and Mug just worked. Draco told him that it was because he had a nice face, geddit, Mug? Mug was fairly perfect, really. He didn’t mind that Draco slept with other people, even expressing interest in joining in or watching some time, which Draco was still thinking about. And he was very attractive. And he let Draco be in control every single time, which was obviously a prerequisite. 

‘You back with us?’ Mug asked when Draco had finally torn his eyes from the stage for the first time since they got there. 

Draco smirked. He wasn’t going to shout above the noise.

‘This guy really _gets_ _it_ , doesn’t he?’

Draco raised his eyebrow.

‘Right, you were too busy eye-fucking the drummer,’ Mug said, the sarcasm somewhat ruined by his shouting. ‘I love this band for what they say, not how they dress it up or how they look.’

Draco rolled his eyes, but started to listen more carefully to the lyrics. He probably should pay more attention to lyrics in general, seeing as singing was his strength whereas he was clearly still just an amateur drummer after nearly four weeks of doing nothing but drum, but he got obsessed easily.

But Mug was right, the singer wasn’t just singing about nothing. He was furious, something that Draco hadn’t placed because his voice was so melodic, but now … He clearly had a problem with the Muggle Ministry.

‘Is he allowed to say that?’ Draco asked, deciding to put up with the indignity of shouting, after the singer described where their prime minister could stick his conformist values.

Mug looked at Draco funnily. 

‘It’s punk-rock. It’s all fuck the establishment, you know?’

 

The band stopped playing just after midnight, so they headed back out into London to find a quiet pub to talk and drink. Draco had only had two beers over the three hours he’d been there, and he felt the need to catch up with Pansy, who had apparently seen the £50 note he had given her as a challenge. 

‘You’re new to the music scene, aren’t you?’ Mug asked Draco once they were seated comfortably with two jugs of beer. 

‘You just came to my 18th birthday,’ Draco reminded him.

‘Never snuck into a club underage?’

‘We were at boarding school most of the year,’ Justin said.

Draco had found Justin invaluable since the war. None of the other Muggleborns wanted much to do with him, but Justin’s family were almost as rich as the Malfoys, so he had his own perspective.

‘Me too, I still managed to sneak out when Radiohead were in town. Nearly got suspended, but now there’s a library with my dad’s name on it and for some reason they forgot about it after that.’ 

‘It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, it wouldn’t have been worth it if we had. Besides, we got up to a bit of mischief in our own rooms, right guys?’

‘And what mischief did a Hufflepuff like you ever get up to?’ Pansy asked curiously. She still hadn’t managed to get Justin to bed, which was baffling her, and Draco hadn’t seen that it was necessary to enlighten her as to why. 

‘Our common room was right next to the kitchens, we were always having parties,’ Justin said defensively. 

Mug left for the bar again, clearly bored of their constant house rivalry. Having gone to his own posh boarding school, they barely had to guard their language around him. They could even talk about Quidditch vaguely, because Mug said his school had their own weird sport that they would never have heard of either. 

 

Mug stayed at Draco’s house for two nights following the concert. He always left as soon as Draco told him he was sick of the company, but he also seemed perfectly willing to stay and be used by Draco up until that point. He also seemed to get along with Lucius surprisingly well, having been trained in that delicate balance between sucking up and taking the piss that Draco associated with rich kids.

When Draco kicked him out this time, however, it wasn’t because he was sick of him. It was because, after messing about on Draco’s guitar while Draco tried to copy what he’d seen the drummer doing, he had casually mentioned that Draco should start a band, and Draco found himself consumed by the idea. 

 

‘D’you reckon the Ministry would let me play wizarding venues?’ Draco asked his mother at dinner that night.

‘Well, I don’t see why not, so long as you’re not using magic,’ she said.

‘Your equipment won’t work at wizarding venues,’ Lucius said in his problem-solving voice. 

Draco tried not to look too crushed. He wasn’t willing to be a cover band, though he now knew what they were, and he didn’t want to write songs that didn’t mention anything important to him. The best songs were the ones that used the artist’s pain, Mug had said, and for the first time, Draco had realised that his pain could be useful. 

‘What we could do,’ Lucius continued, ‘is hire out a Muggle venue for the night and make sure that only wizards get in. Or you could use the manor. Or we could buy a wizarding venue and strip it like we had to with the manor. Magic and ecklecktricity don’t work together, that’s the problem.’

‘Who else do you want in your band?’ Narcissa asked. 

Draco got out of his seat and hugged his mother instead of answering. It was probably more punk to resist against his parents, and Mug was certainly under the impression that Draco was doing that, given the messy parties and the string of one-night-stands, but his parents understood completely what he was doing. He was reclaiming his life. And it had never been  _ his parents _ who had taken his freedom.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It took Draco three months to write an album's worth of songs. The lyrics came easily. He had a lot of feelings, and words had never been a weakness. He eventually gave up on the drums, preferring to sing lead. He didn’t want anyone else to own his words. He eventually wanted to play guitar as well, and he could play well enough to show his new band mates what he wanted, but when he tried to sing at the same time, his hands completely misbehaved.

Blaise took over on the drums, having learned the wizard drums at school, which really weren’t that different. He sometimes lamented about trying to hit things that weren’t there, or that his drumsticks were too boring, but he was also intrigued about the drummer taking a more active role in the band, so he really only complained so that he didn’t seem too eager. Justin recruited two older Hufflepuffs, Ramona and Rolf, both of whom Draco remembered as Chasers, and they played lead guitar and bass with an expertise that told Draco as much as he needed to know about their parents. He was done asking people. He wanted to know who the person was, not who their parents were. He’d recently come into a lot of sympathy for not being able to choose what family you were a part of. 

 

When the band finally debuted in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, Draco was amazed to see how many people turned up. Yes, he had continued to have the occasional party, including one memorable one in the Malfoy catacombs which had scared and delighted his guests, but somehow he had still thought he was an outsider. He told Justin this as they waited backstage for Pansy to announce them, and Justin just laughed and clapped Draco on the shoulder.

‘Loads of people feel alone at parties, mate,’ he said. ‘Write a song about it.’

And then Draco was walking on stage, his clothes ripped to show off his pale skin and the Dark Mark burnt into it, his eyes glowering more intense than usual thanks to Muggle eyeliner and a cool smirk on his face.

‘Hi!’ he said, grinning towards the wings where Pansy had given a whoop, before facing the crowd again. ‘We are  _ We Are All Marked _ , I’m Draco, and we’re here to play music that’ll drive you to drink.’

Draco made eye contact with Blaise, who counted them in and he shuddered as his nerves reached climax. He started to sing, and he felt that weird sensation that he’d only felt a couple of times while playing Quidditch: he was in the zone. Every note was on key, when he danced he felt like he was made of sex, and when Blaise broke one of his drumsticks half way through a song, he whipped out another without dropping the beat he carried with the other stick. After three songs, Draco stopped them so they could all drink water. Blaise took off his shirt to excited whoops from the crowd. 

‘You should see him without pants, ladies,’ Draco said grinning at his audience.

‘Or gents,’ Blaise shouted, his voice just catching on Draco’s microphone. There was a masculine cheer and Draco raised his eyebrow, half turning so that he could address Blaise and the audience could still see and hear him. 

‘And you had doubts about joining my band. Can we make some noise for Blaise Zabini on drums!’

The crowd exploded.

‘This next song was supposed to come a little later on in the set, but let’s show off our drummer while he’s still half clothed.’ Draco looked to Ramona to confirm that she understood and she gave him a thumbs up, dropping her water bottle to her feet. She jumped straight into the opening riff, causing Blaise to give out a big ‘HA!’ of laughter before catching up on his part. 

‘ _ There’s a wolf on the prowl and he’s looking for me _ ,’ Draco crooned. He loved the ones where he got to properly show off his voice, in perfect contrast from the angry music behind him.

Halfway through the set they had a twenty minute break, blasting Muggle bands through their speakers to keep people in the mood.

‘You’ve fucked our set list,’ Ramona told Draco once they’d all caught their breath somewhat. She was grinning though, so Draco knew she didn’t really mind.

‘Alright, so we move  _ Love Me Like I’m Someone Else _ to the first one back, then go on as we would have? Oh, we should finish on  _ Fuck You, Dark Lord _ , actually, that’s our best one.’

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Blaise said. ‘Then if you lose your voice during it, at least you don’t have to sing anymore.’ 

Draco knew how to protect his voice when he shout-sang, he really did, but there was something about that song that made it very difficult to hold back. He smirked at Blaise instead of answering. All his songs were rather personal, but his bandmates had never teased him for it, only occasionally fixed lines where the syllables weren’t even or added their own solos. Sometimes their reactions turned into lyrics of their own, like when they listened to  _ Fuck You, Dark Lord _ for the first time and Rolf said, ‘I’d rather fuck a dragon than go back to how it was.’

Of course, his father was a dragon breeder and his grandfather had written the first book on beasts that didn’t include details on how to kill them along with the descriptions, so Draco had struggled to hold back the sarcastic comment about how Rolf probably would fuck a dragon anyway. He was doing a lot better at thinking before he spoke, and it wasn’t just because he was wandless.

They went back on stage, new plan agreed on, and, confronted with those lights again, Draco tipped the last of his water bottle on his head. Wizarding stage lights surely didn’t feel like the sun. A girl screamed as he shook out his hair and he winked in the general direction of the noise. Still looking in her direction, he grabbed the microphone close and sang, ‘ _ Don’t you know I’m going crazy without you? I tried and tried, there’s nothing more I can do. _ ’

Rolf started his soft bass line, and Draco sang the next two lines before Ramona and Blaise joined in with their parts. This song was the slowest and softest by far, but Ramona had insisted they have a love song. 

Draco hadn’t ever been even remotely in love, so he’d had to rely on cliches for that one. He thought it was probably their weakest song, meaning wise, but the actual music always gave him tingles, so he didn’t mind. He’d worked a lot harder on the melody than he had on any of the others, desperate to to be proud of all his songs. 

Blaise shouted at him to stop making out with his mic in between songs and Draco flipped him off, to the laughter and cheers of the audience.

Finally they closed, and there was a moment of surrealism when the whole crowd had sung along with the final chorus of  _ Fuck You, Dark Lord _ towards the end, which really wasn’t supposed to be that catchy when Draco had first written it. He had a lot to thank his bandmates for. They bowed together and then changed backstage before joining the crowd for an after-party.

Draco noticed that people were a lot less ashamed to find him attractive now.

 

At two in the morning, Draco snuck to the lake, assuming that it was far enough away from the party that he’d be able to hear himself think again. The hedge maze was full of couples, given that it had a lot of quiet corners. When they still had magic on the property, the maze used to change routes every time, but now the way through was static, so Draco had only gone through a couple of times. It wasn’t as fun when you knew how to escape. And none of the hedge animals moved anymore.

The lake, however, was the same as ever. You can’t really improve on a lake. Though, lake might have been overstating it, because it really wasn’t that big. Just slightly too big to be called a pond. There was someone sitting on the tiny pier, but Draco wasn’t trying to escape people, just the noise, so he didn’t think twice about sitting down next to the man until he realised that it was Harry Potter.

‘Oh, hi, Draco,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Draco tried to pretend like he had sat with Potter on purpose.

‘What am I doing here? At my own concert at my own house?’

Potter gave him a rather empty looking smile. 

‘You guys sounded good.’

‘Thank you.’

There was an awkward pause.

‘Thank you, for saving me during the Battle,’ Draco said finally. 

Potter waved a hand dismissively. 

‘Twice,’ Draco reminded him. 

Potter gave him another empty smile. ‘You already thanked me.’

‘Yes, well, you must get a lot of owls. I wasn’t sure if you got it.’

‘Oh, I did. I didn’t think you’d want me to reply. Then you’d be replying and then we’d be stuck in a very odd place.’

Draco snorted. ‘Is this better?’

Potter didn’t respond.

‘I … wrote a song about it actually. I didn’t play it tonight, thought it would be weird.’ Potter was playing with a splinter on the pier, so Draco kept talking. ‘I mean, I’ve written about a lot of personal things, obviously. But it’s not like Greyback’s going to tell me off for turning our relationship, such as it was, into song.’

‘Oh, it was a literal wolf,’ Potter said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t tell you off, either.’

‘Oh. Good. Maybe next time.’

‘You really were good,’ Potter said, getting to his feet. ‘You’ll have to bring out a CD or something.’

Draco made a mental note to ask Justin how that would be done and smiled up at Potter, giving him a little wave as he turned and left. He took his clunky boots off and dipped his bare feet in the lake, wondering exactly what he was going to do. Apparently, barely seeing Potter for a year and a half hadn’t done much to cure him of his stupid school-boy crush.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry didn’t go to another one of Draco’s concerts. He had gone to the first one, he could carry a conversation about  _ We Are All Marked _ , he didn’t feel the need to go to another. He’d only gone to the first one because Ginny had heard that Malfoy Manor was  _ the _ party place and she thought it might be good for him.

It had been her last resort. 

Harry didn’t see Draco again until his trial, where he had insisted on testifying. Though, oddly, his testimony was barely needed. The Wizengamot knew that Draco was remorseful, that he hadn’t had a choice, that he had perhaps suffered worse than most. They all had his album.

Draco was dressed in formal robes, of course, he was still somewhat respectful, and he had toned down the eyeliner, but he still looked like a rockstar. 

‘I know he’s young enough to be my son, but I’d still eat him up with a  _ spoon _ ,’ Harry overheard a witch mutter to her neighbour as Kingsley read charges. Her neighbour giggled and nodded her head vigorously.

Draco was cleared of all charges. Lucius and Narcissa were not. 

Harry watched as Draco swore and punched the wall when he was told.

‘Oh, you’ll need St Mungo’s, dear,’ a witch said to him nervously.

‘Fuck St Mungo’s,’ Draco spat, and he stormed from the room.

 

Harry told Ron about it that night at their apartment. 

‘Oh, come on, he must have expected that,’ Ron said reasonably. ‘I mean, even though they’re going to Azkaban, they got really short times compared to some of the others.’

‘He was  _ really  _ angry,’ Harry said.

Ron looked at him sympathetically. ‘You don’t want to feel  _ that _ much, surely.’

Harry hadn’t felt anything since the war. Since he’d died. He sometimes thought that the part of him that could feel had stayed dead. He hadn’t even managed to cry at any of the funerals. 

 

The next week, Harry saw a picture of Draco on Witch Weekly. He had his hand bandaged like a Muggle and was storming away from the camera, his uninjured hand raising to give the photographer a rude gesture over his shoulder. 

 

Two weeks later, Harry and Ron sat listening to Lee Jordan interview  _ We Are All Marked _ on the wizarding wireless. Ron had made popcorn, sure that Lee would be immune to the charms of Draco Malfoy and looking forward to hearing it.

‘Now, I’ve got to ask, what have you done to your hand, Draco?’ 

Blaise Zabini made a rather unflattering snort. ‘He broke three knuckles, the idiot. And he’s not using magic to heal it for Merlin knows what reason.’

‘Oh, come on Draco, you have to tell me why,’ Lee said.

‘My parents are in Azkaban. This time without magic has been the best of my life.’

‘I’m glad you mention your parents,’ Lee said. ‘The Malfoys are pretty famous for their anti-Muggle and Muggleborn sentiments, and yet you’re playing in a band with two Muggleborns, using Muggle instruments, and by all accounts have spent the last six months in Muggle clubs. How do they feel about that?’

‘They’re proud. I’m in control of my own life now. And you forgot to mention the Muggle boyfriend.’

They heard the sound of the band laughing faintly while Lee tried to pick up the threads of the interview again.

‘Are you going to keep seeing him now you’ve gotten your magic back?’ Lee asked.

‘Ah, alas, he has already dumped me.’

‘You didn’t tell me that!’ Rolf exclaimed. 

‘Yeah, day before my trial, talk about supportive, right?’

‘Did he know what the trial was for?’ Lee asked.

‘No, which is why he dumped me. I couldn’t tell him, I wouldn’t let him come to any of the wizarding gigs, I was being “too secretive”.’

Ron grimaced at Harry. ‘He’s making it really hard to revel in his misfortune, isn’t he?’

Harry gave a humourless laugh. 

‘So, what’s the first thing you did when you got your magic back?’ Lee asked, evidently agreeing. 

‘I got a tattoo, want to see?’

They heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and, alarmingly, an unzipping noise. Then silence.

‘For those listening at home,’ Ramona said smugly. ‘Draco is showing Lee a phoenix on his hip, and Lee has lost the ability to speak.’

‘I would like to say, for the record,’ Blaise said. ‘I specifically went out and bought Draco underwear after we went to the tattoo parlor and he wasn’t wearing any. So I am not responsible for this.’

‘This being Draco showing off more than strictly necessary,  _ again _ ,’ Rolf sighed. 

‘So!’ Lee squeaked. ‘A phoenix!’

There was another zipping noise and a bit of scuffling as Draco took his seat again. 

‘Yes, very cliche, I know. But I am making myself a new life. And, should there be a third war, I know what side I’m on.’

‘I’m sure the Ministry would be happy to hear it!’ Lee said, still sounding a bit unsettled.

‘Fuck the Ministry, I’m with Potter,’ Draco said.

‘And I think that’s about all we have time for today. This next track is called  _ The Wolf _ , it’s from  _ We Are All Marked _ ’s debut album,  _ Uprising _ .’

The song played and Ron burst into laughter. 

‘I suppose there’s no law against insulting the Ministry, right?’

 

It seemed like everywhere Harry went for the next week, someone was wearing a shirt that said ‘Fuck the Ministry, I’m with Potter’. Never mind that Harry actually worked  _ for  _ the Ministry. And then Draco made the situation even worse with the release of his second album:  _ Red Versus Green _ .

Apparently, Draco had enough to say about Harry Potter to fill up nine songs.

The title track referred to Harry defeating Voldemort, and was an annoyingly catchy anthem, an ode to the two spells that had collided in their final duel. And their contrasting eye colours. And their contrasting house colours. It was  _ very _ neat. There was a song about bleeding out on a bathroom floor, which sounded very symbolic, but Harry knew was literal. There was a song about jealousy. Worse, there was a love song. 

‘Ramona insisted they have at least one love song on every album,’ Luna told Harry one day, trying to be reassuring. 

‘Yeah, but he actually meant what he said in  _ Choosing the Chosen One _ , you can tell,’ Rolf said. 

Rolf and Luna were dating, though Harry had no idea how they had met. Technically, Rolf had only been a couple of years above Harry, but he never remembered seeing him around, and Luna just said they met over the holidays. Rolf was obviously smitten. He was more than willing to wait while Luna finished school, only seeing her on the weekends and then spending those meetings studying for the most part. 

‘Did he?’ Luna asked curiously. 

Rolf shrugged awkwardly. He was the odd one out in the band. While Draco, Ramona and Blaise all oozed cool,  _ fluffy _ was the word that came to mind when one saw Rolf. And not just because of his shaggy hair. He was just a cute person. Even on stage. 

‘Rolf was telling me that Draco wants to incorporate electrics into the next album.’

‘Didn’t the last one just come out?’ Harry asked. 

‘Yeah, last week. We should be touring or relaxing or something. Wish Mug was still around.’

‘Mug was Draco’s boyfriend,’ Luna said helpfully.

‘A Muggle called Mug?’

‘Well, yeah, that was kind of the point. It stuck though.’

‘So, electrics?’ Harry asked. He didn’t think that was the proper name, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘Yeah, and I wish I could complain more. He’s taking us to Paris to research, right, and they have this special variety of Doxy, my dad tells me they have to be seen to be believed.’

‘I believe,’ Luna said absently. 

Rolf gave her a huge, rather awkward hug and then rushed away to get them more drinks. 

‘You seem rather flat,’ Luna said when he was out of earshot.

‘Flat is the perfect word, yes,’ Harry agreed. 

Luna eyed Harry for a good few minutes. Luna rarely looked at anything with a focussed expression, and Harry had certainly never been on the receiving end of a look like that from her.

‘Not now, Rolf, I have to try something,’ she said, and Harry saw Rolf take the three drinks in his hand over to Ron and Hermione instead. Luna hadn’t taken her eyes off Harry’s.

She held out her hand and Harry took it automatically.

‘ _ Corpore Transitum _ ,’ she said. 

Harry felt an odd sensation, not dissimilar to that he associated with entering the Pensieve, and then felt woozy, staggering backwards.

‘You alright, love?’ Rolf asked, catching him.

Harry looked up at him, feeling confused. Rolf didn’t seem the kind of guy who just called everyone ‘love’. He was too … southern … for that. And he seemed taller than usual. Or maybe that was because Harry was still slouched in his arms. Harry stood up straight and nearly staggered again. What he saw didn’t make any sense, so he looked straight ahead instead, hoping to find a clue.

He saw  _ himself _ , slowly getting to his feet.

‘Over here, Rolfie,’ the Harry said. 

Harry gaped at him. 

‘What?’ he asked. His voice came out oddly. He looked down again. No, it  _ still  _ didn’t make sense for him to be wearing a dress all of a sudden.

‘Oh, Luna,’ Hermione said, looking sternly at the other Harry.

‘Is that your proud voice?’ the other Harry asked.

‘What?’ Harry asked again.

‘Luna has swapped your bodies,’ Hermione said, sounding very exasperated.

‘Ah,’ he said. He looked down again. Yes, Luna was wearing these clothes before. He felt his hair. Yes, that was Luna level messy, not Harry level messy. He looked at Rolf.

He was hit with a sudden swooping feeling in his stomach and he found himself giggling.

He stopped immediately, a bit shocked. He hadn’t heard Luna make that noise before.

‘Why did you do this?’ he asked Luna.

Ron threw his arm around his shoulder. ‘Why does Luna do anything?’ he asked undertone. They watched Luna shake out her arms. It reminded Harry of leaving the Dursleys, watching Ron and Hermione and the rest take on his body for decoys. 

‘I did it so that you could have a little time out,’ Luna said. ‘This body is bruising your soul something horrible, did you know?’

Harry felt suddenly that he did know. That was a wonderful way of putting it. He smiled, and it felt like the first real smile he had had in a very long time. 

He looked back at Rolf again because he wanted to. That swooping feeling was rather addictive.

‘This is a strange thing for me,’ Rolf said, glancing between Harry and Luna. 

‘His soul isn’t bruised! How can you even bruise a soul?’ Hermione was saying. 

‘Can’t you feel it?’ Harry said, shaking himself when he heard Luna’s voice instead of his again. ‘Your soul’s still healing, surely you can feel it too.’

‘Oh, can you see that now? I wondered …’ Luna said. She sat on the ground, looking rather dejected. 

‘You alright?’ Ron asked, crouching in front of her.

‘Yes, fine. Ooh, no, I’m really not, I don’t know why I said I was. Apparently this body does the speaking before I can get my thoughts out.’

Hermione snorted. 

Harry took Luna’s shoes off. Why she was wearing high heels in the first place was beyond him. He couldn’t balance on them and the grass felt amazing.

‘Luna?’ he asked. ‘Can you do cartwheels?’

Luna looked up at him blankly. Harry decided he would find out one way or the other. 

Hermione kindly placed a sticking charm on his dress so that it wouldn’t fall up, and Harry spent half an hour doing cartwheels before he got tired of it. Luna’s body felt amazing. As he cartwheeled, he had a breakthrough in the case he and Ron were working on for their Auror tests. He told Ron about it in a rush, and Ron took notes, but looked at Harry oddly as he did so. 

After another hour, he realised that Luna had been getting more and more soul-bruised in Harry’s body. He reluctantly switched back.

‘That’s a spell that can only be cast consensually,’ Luna warned.

Harry wondered how he was ever going to be able to convince someone else to get into this body. It felt awful.

Ron sidled up to him and showed him the notes he had just taken. They were complete nonsense, of course.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was performing in Munich when it happened. 

‘Ich liebe Munich!’ he told the crowd, and they all screamed back at him. Some people set off fireworks. At first, Draco thought that was all it was, a firework too close to the stage. But  _ Avada Kedavra _ has a smell to it, and a strange feeling as it goes past. 

Draco grabbed Rolf and Disapparated immediately, hoping Ramona and Blaise would follow. He stepped out of the garage he had had built to disguise his Apparition from his staff and headed towards the house, dragging Rolf with him. There was a Floo in his bedroom, but nowhere else in the house, lest the Muggle staff see it. His bedroom was off limits, he’d learned how to clean it himself. A small price to pay for privacy.

Once in his bedroom, though, he didn’t know who to call. 

‘What  _ happened _ , Draco?’ Rolf asked.

‘Didn’t you see?’ Draco said.

Ramona and Blaise burst in through the door.

‘Someone cast the killing curse towards our stage.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ramona asked.

‘Of course he’s sure,’ Blaise spat. He crossed the room and grabbed Draco into a rough hug. ‘I’m sorry, Drake, we’re supposed to be past all that.’

Draco clung onto Blaise’s damp shirt for several minutes. Blaise let go first.

‘What do we do?’ Draco asked.

‘We have to report it to the Ministry, right?’ Blaise said.

‘Let’s ask Justin,’ Rolf said. It was his answer to everything. Justin was probably the most over-utilised band manager in the history of bands. 

‘Finch-Fletchley’s house’ Draco told the fireplace and he stuck his head in. 

Justin was in his office, and rather surprised to see Draco in his fireplace, not on stage in Germany as was expected. 

‘Justin, will you call me back? I’ve got the rest of the band in my room.’

Justin nodded and started to walk towards the fire, so Draco took his head from the flames. He sat next to Blaise, and nearly laughed at the picture they made. Four of the most punk-rock wizards in the world, sitting cross legged on his carpet, anxiously waiting to hear from their manager to tell them what to do. 

Justin popped into Draco’s fireplace a moment later, his usual cheery face strained with worry.

‘What’s going on, guys?’ he asked.

‘Someone cast a killing curse at us while we were on stage. Not sure who it was aimed for,’ Draco said shortly. Though he could guess. Not everyone was happy that he had gotten away without jail time. 

Justin looked at him seriously. ‘How’d you know it was a killing curse?’ he asked. 

Draco made every attempt not to bristle with indignation. 

‘Draco has seen enough of them to recognise it,’ Blaise said quietly. He started rubbing circles on Draco’s back and Draco let his head drop onto Blaise’s shoulder. 

‘Okay,’ Justin said. ‘Okay, let me think about this. We need to report it, obviously. What did you do when you saw it?’

‘Disapparated.’

‘From Germany?’

‘Well, we made a couple of stops,’ Ramona said, looking uneasily at Draco. 

‘I … just wanted to be home,’ Draco mumbled. 

‘No magic for the rest of the night, and careful tomorrow,’ Justin said sternly.

Draco nodded glumly against Blaise’s shoulder. 

‘Alright. Um, give me half an hour, I’ll get us an appointment at the Auror’s department. Make sure there’s privacy and all that. You should eat something, maybe take a shower. Actually, make it an hour, I’ll drive over and pick you up.’ 

Justin gave them all a long appraising look each before he withdrew from the flames. 

Rolf was the first to stand, holding his hands out to pull Ramona up as well, then Blaise, then Draco. 

‘We’re okay,’ he said, punching Draco lightly on the shoulder. ‘You take first shower, front man, Blaise can go bother the Muggles about some dinner.’

Draco pretended to rub the spot that Rolf had punched. He knew why he had grabbed Rolf when he thought they were in danger; Rolf was the adorable puppy of the band, Draco couldn’t stand the idea of him being hurt. But he had a certain strength to him as well, and Draco was always glad that he was there to talk to him. 

Draco went to the shower, thinking that Blaise probably needed it more, but grateful for the opportunity to collect himself. The Aurors would want to talk to  _ him _ , not any of the others, he was the one who had seen the curse and he was the obvious target. He rubbed at his eye makeup, even knowing that it wouldn’t all come off in the shower. He needed some of Pansy’s special cloths, the ones that had been soaked in potion and just wiped it all off. He didn’t bother washing his hair or going through any of his routines, he just got rid of the sweat. When he towelled dry and looked in the mirror, he saw that his hair was wild and his eyeliner smudged. He thought about what his father would think of him, going out in public, let alone the Ministry, looking so bedraggled. But then, his father was in prison thanks to the Ministry and he had just come off stage, so …

When Draco got downstairs, he was glad to see that there was food waiting. Ramona was showing off a card trick to Paul, the chef. Draco rolled his eyes as Paul struggled to follow as Ramona cut the cards expertly. They were from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and specifically designed to fool Muggles into thinking that they wizard doing the trick was just very good at Muggle card tricks. Whenever the wizard said, ‘Is that your card?’ the card they were holding would magically transform into the card the Muggle had chosen. 

Blaise put his arm around Draco when he took his seat at the table and Draco relaxed into it again. He and Blaise had the kind of intimacy that Draco had been unable to achieve with anyone he wasn’t romantically involved with. They’d kissed once when they were fifteen, and both decided that it wasn’t for them, leaving them free and confident to be proper friends. It had been an uncharacteristic moment of maturity for both of them. Draco had never encountered someone he wasn’t willing to kiss before, and despite Blaise’s obvious attractiveness, he truly didn’t want to kiss him again. And Blaise wasn’t offended by this, despite having never encountered someone who wasn’t willing to kiss him. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did, and it left them able to be friends without any worries of underlying tension.

Blaise left for a shower when Rolf came downstairs, so Draco forced himself to eat a sandwich. He liked having Muggle staff for a lot of reasons, but he did sometimes regret that the elves Draco had known since childhood were all gone, and no one was left to remember his comfort foods.

Still, the sandwiches were good.

  
  


It was an hour and a half  since their fire call when Justin finally pulled up in the manor drive, and at that stage all of them were getting more and more restless. Paul, the constant professional, had vanished after Ramona released him from her final card trick, but Mags had slipped in every so often to make sure they had enough tea and water.

The car was one of Draco’s favourite things about Muggle life. The cabs were never as good as Justin’s car. It was just so much bigger and smoother and warmer. It had possibly been magicked, now that Draco thought about it.

They pulled up at the Ministry’s visitor entrance and they all got out, Justin left to park and then a couple of minutes later Apparated to where they were waiting. 

They all crammed into the phone booth. There was not enough room. They didn’t care. Two trips were for suckers.

Draco let Justin take the lead, not quite sure how Justin knew where they were going. It was after hours, so it looked different from any other time he’d been there. No welcome witch. No bustle of bureaucracy. Blaise kept his arm around Ramona, whose cool was starting to crumble a bit. Rolf walked close enough to Draco to bump arms with him continuously. Draco wasn’t sure for whose benefit it was for, but he appreciated it.

Justin lead them in the elevator and out again and then walked straight to the Head Auror’s office. 

‘Auror Robards,’ he said, holding his hand out.

‘Finch-Fletchley,’ Robards replied. He nodded to the rest of them. ‘You said there had been an attempt on your band?’

‘Yes, I think I better let Draco tell you. Draco, I’m not sure if you’ve met Head Auror Gawain Robards before. Auror, this is Draco Malfoy, the lead of the band and the one who saw the attempt.’

Robards nodded for Draco to talk. 

Draco looked at Justin, a bit baffled as to how Justin knew Robards and when he had become so damned competent. Best band manager ever. He needed a raise. Once Draco figured out how much he was being paid.

‘Sir,’ Draco said, bowing his head slightly. Merlin, he was a mess. ‘We were in Munich, performing. There were a lot of fireworks going off. I saw …  _ No _ , I smelt Avada Kedavra. I promise you, I know what it was. I don’t know who it was aimed at, but I would guess me, right? I mean, I don’t know if it’s a Death Eater thing or a celebrity thing, but I’m the obvious target.’

‘You saw a lot of that kind of thing during the war, didn’t you son?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Have you seen anybody about it?’

‘Last thing I want is someone rummaging in my head.’

‘Right. Did anyone else see the attack?’

Robards looked to the rest of the band. They shook their heads.

‘If Draco says it happened, it happened,’ Blaise said. 

Draco gave him a small smile. 

‘Right. Well, the trouble is that there is no … proof. And the spell didn’t connect with anything, so tracking the caster will be difficult. I’ll send some guys out to question the crowd, hopefully something will turn up, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Justin said, and he ushered them all out.

‘Justin!’ Rolf said.

Justin just shushed him and pulled them around the nearest corner. 

‘ _ That was bullshit _ ,’ Rolf said. 

Justin glanced over his shoulder.

‘Say that a little louder, Rolf, I don’t think they heard you over our songs that have a pretty prominent  _ fuck the Ministry _ theme, hey?’ 

‘What? You don’t think?’

‘No, Ramona, I  _ don’t _ think that the Ministry has the balls to assassinate us for being anti-Ministry, but I also don’t think they’d care too much if we were to stop saying the anti-Ministry stuff, and everyone knows it’s Draco that writes the songs.  _ Fuck _ ! I thought we were past all this  _ bullshit _ !’

‘What bullshit?’

‘Come on, you know I was Dumbledore’s Army. Actually, I wonder if Hermione would help …’

‘No,’ Draco said firmly. ‘Who else?’

‘No one! Literally no one else! I mean, Harry and Ron are both in Auror training, but that means nothing, Hermione’s the one with the brains.’

‘ _ Granger _ is still in  _ school _ . What do you think she can do?’

Justin sighed and dragged his hands over his face. 

‘Nothing. You’re right. We’ve done all we can and it’s nothing. I honestly don’t know what to do now. Do we tell the world, risk inspiring someone else? Or keep it quiet? I just don’t know.’ Justin looked around again. ‘Okay, we have to get out of here, we can’t just be hanging around the Ministry at night. Come back to my place? You don’t want to drive back to Wiltshire.’

‘Us too?’ Rolf asked.

‘Of course you too. Shit, Rolf, I only put up with this crap because I’m in love with you, don’t you know that?’ Justin teased. 

Rolf blushed. 

Mood effectively lightened, Justin lead the way back out of the Ministry and took them all home. He was a poor substitute for loving parents and devoted house elves, but he was a fucking good band manager.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes Harry thought he’d rather he had remained in denial, thinking that his feelings were all gone but not knowing why, assuming that it would end at some point but not knowing when. Now he knew why. His stupid depressed body was bruising his soul. And he didn’t have to put up with it. 

He’d gone to see Healers, after Hermione nagged him into submission, knowing that Luna therapy was not an actual option. But there was no way to let him get out of the body without him being swapped into another one and the Healers weren’t about to volunteer. They wanted him to do therapy, take regular potions, exercise.  _ It might take months or even years _ , they said,  _ but you can get better _ . 

‘Did you expect it to be an instant cure?’ Hermione asked when he told her.

‘To be honest, yeah, I thought that the wizard doctors might be able to magically fix me.’

Hermione gave him her best stern look through the Floo. 

‘Ron, make sure he sticks to the plan.’

‘What, so now I’m not trusted to look after myself?’

‘You absolutely are. It’ll be a very easy job for Ron if you actually do. But support is important too.’

Hermione hesitated before speaking.

‘It’s not good enough, Harry, I know that. As soon as I’ve done my NEWTS, I promise I’ll work my hardest to fix it. In the meantime, do what they say.’

 

Ron went one better. He let Harry swap bodies with him.

It was strange, being in Ron’s body. He constantly felt the draw to contact Hermione, to seek her out, but he got used to calming down about it. The feelings evaporated when he was back in his own body. Thankfully. That was one piece of drama he didn’t need. 

Auror training was going well. It wasn’t especially challenging and Harry felt like he had to pull his curses when they duelled and censor his language when he studied, but it got him out of the house. And Ron dragged him along to drinks with the other trainees. When Harry was in Ron’s body, he actually liked their company. When he was in his own, he felt simultaneously bored by them and vastly inferior to them, like they had the secrets to normal human interaction and he was on the outside. It didn’t help that even after months of training with them they were still intimidated by him. 

He was honestly doing better. Some days, he forgot he was depressed for hours at a time.

He always remembered.

He was at trainee’s drinks, sitting in a booth in his own body, staring at his pint and wondering if it was worth the effort of picking it up just for the reward of drinking it, when Carl, one of the more friendly trainees came over. 

‘How’s it going, Potter?’ he asked.

‘Fine. How’s things with you?’

‘Wanna get out of here?’

Harry looked at Carl properly. He was leaning forward on the table, smiling shyly. His cheeks were flushed and Harry wondered how many drinks he’d had to work up the courage to ask.

‘I …’

‘You can tell me to bugger off,’ Carl said, looking down but still smiling.

‘No,’ Harry said quickly. 

Carl grinned at him.

‘I mean … it’s been a while, I’m not in the best place …’ Harry said.

‘We could always play it by ear? I wouldn’t get cross if you lead me on a little.’

Harry found himself smiling genuinely without having to think about how his face looked on the outside. He wanted to stick around Carl to see how long the good feelings would last. He finished off his pint and looked around for Ron. He found him in another booth, trying to flick the coasters onto his hand or something. Maybe if he wasn’t depressed he would find pub games fun or interesting, or maybe they were all just a bit shit.

‘Hey, I’m taking off, catch you back home?’

Ron stood immediately.

‘Want me to come? It’s still early. We can swap if you need?’

‘You’re the best, Ron. But no, I was going to, ah, go home with Carl for a bit …’ Harry glanced back to where Carl was fussing with his jacket.

‘ _ You dog! _ ’ Ron whispered. ‘Congrats! You’ll send a Patronus if you need me, right?’

Harry rolled his eyes, not quite sure what he’d need Ron for in this situation. ‘Thanks mate, I’ll see you later,’ he said.

Harry followed Carl outside and side-alonged back to Carl’s apartment. Carl opened the door and lead the way into the kitchen.

‘Drink?’ he asked.

Harry nodded, looking around at the various knick knacks. He accepted the drink that Carl passed him and sipped it automatically. Carl leaned against the kitchen bench and let Harry get used to the place. 

Harry wasn’t getting used to the place. 

The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a bad idea. 

‘Carl, I’m really sorry …’ he said. ‘I gotta go.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah, I thought I was ready, but I’m really not.’ Harry shrugged, feeling like a bit of an arsehole, and Disapparated, not bothering to step outside. Politeness had probably gone out the window when he had decided to leave.

He got home and was surprised to see Ron waiting for him in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea.

‘Well, coming home that quick I think I hope you didn’t get lucky,’ he said.

‘Would it even count as lucky if that was as much time as I needed?’

Ron laughed. 

‘Hey, but even thinking about it, that’s progress, right?’

It really didn’t feel like progress. It felt like he had disappointed both of them. He couldn’t imagine what the next bit of progress might look like, how many tiny steps it would take before he made it to bed with someone. 

‘Harry, what are you thinking?’

Harry shrugged.

‘Mate, choose the better thoughts, say shit out loud, do the thing.’

Harry put the kettle on the stove and breathed deeply, forced himself to do as Ron said, to remember his stupid therapy.

‘It’s a bit disappointing, but it doesn’t have to steamroller me,’ Harry said.

Ron nodded encouragingly.

‘I guess, I didn’t really have any time to prepare, it wasn’t like I went out tonight thinking I might go home with someone.’

‘Perfectly understandable, mate.’

‘I wasn’t even really attracted to him …’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, guess I just was glad someone was getting me out of my head.’

‘You know you could have literally anyone, right? If you wanted.’

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron.

‘Well, you could …’

Harry chose to make his tea rather than answer that. Ron, of course, was willing to wait. Stupid, supportive friend.

‘So what, are we going to stay up all night discussing my ideal partner? Because we have training tomorrow, I don’t think we have time for a girly sleepover.’

‘Mate, our whole school life was a girly sleepover, I know your type,’ Ron said, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry threw a tea towel at him. 

They both jumped when they heard the Floo start up.

‘Kreacher?’ Hermione’s voice said, and there was a crack as Kreacher Apparated in front of the fire. ‘I need you to take a message for Harry.’

‘I’m here, Hermione,’ Harry said. They walked over and crouched down in front of the fire. Kreacher Disapparated. 

‘Oh! Okay, well, I’ve just got an owl from Justin Finch-Fletchley.’

‘What does he want?’ Ron said.

‘Apparently there’s been an assassination attempt on Malfoy and the Ministry aren’t taking it seriously.’

‘Woah,’ Harry said. ‘That’s not a thing you put in a letter.’

‘Yes, well, I don’t have a Floo contact at school and he did write it in code.’

‘Codes can be broken.’

‘Thank you, Moody,’ Hermione said, glaring at Harry. ‘I would hope no one is intercepting my mail, now, what with the war being over. Nevertheless, this is important, let me speak.’

Ron nudged Harry. Harry nodded.

‘Right, well, his band was performing in Germany and Malfoy saw or smelt an Avada go past him. He Apparated away immediately and Justin took them to the Ministry to report it. They spoke to Robards who said it would be hard to find proof so they shouldn’t get their hopes up but they would investigate.’

‘That’s standard procedure,’ Ron said. ‘If no one was hit by the spell and there aren’t any witnesses it’s going to be hard to do anything.’

‘Can’t exactly Priori Incantatem however many people when nothing happened,’ Harry agreed.

‘Okay, well first off, that’s bullshit,’ Hermione said. ‘And secondly, if there was an attempt made on Malfoy’s life, don’t you think he should have guards or something? Maybe someone should sit down with him and talk about who could have motive?’

Harry and Ron looked at one another.

‘What?’ Hermione said.

‘That’s just basically what got Harry a hundred push-ups in his first week, asking that.’

‘The Ministry doesn’t have the resources to try and prevent every crime,’ Harry recited dully. 

Hermione stared at them in horror.

‘What?’ Harry said.

‘A hag scarring your hand for life didn’t stop you from speaking out against the Ministry a couple of years ago and now a few lousy push-ups will?’

‘It just doesn’t seem worth it to fight it …’ Harry said.

‘Right, well, you just wait until I graduate,’ Hermione said, eyes flashing dangerously. ‘In the meantime,  _ someone _ has to help Malfoy and I’m volunteering you.’

‘Hermione …’

‘Yes?’ she said. It was her challenging voice. Harry didn’t know if he had lost so much of his self-preservation as to argue with that voice.

‘It’s  _ Malfoy _ ,’ he said, rather than object to doing anything at all outside of training.

‘Think of it as helping Justin, if you have to. Besides, Malfoy was cleared of all charges. He doesn’t deserve vigilante justice.’

With that, she pulled her head from the flames without so much as a goodbye.

‘Thanks for the support!’ Harry said to Ron.

‘Mate, I love you and all but I’m not an idiot. Besides, we were just talking about your type …’

‘Don’t you dare—’

‘And you always used to deny that Malfoy was fit  _ pretty loudly _ ,’ Ron said.

‘Because he wasn’t! Isn’t!’

‘And that had nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t want me thinking there was any other reason for you stalking him apart from him being “up to something.”’

‘He  _ was _ up to something!’

‘And now he’s a rockstar …’

‘And?’

‘And writing songs about choosing the chosen one …’

‘You said you’d stop singing that at me …’

‘And he needs your  _ help _ …’

‘I’m not doing this.’

‘And nothing quite revs up Harry James Potter like being a hero!’

Harry stood up and left the room, giving up on stopping his slightly hysterical laughter. At least Ron would always be willing to take the piss. The rest of the world could change all it liked if he could keep this the same.

 


End file.
